


The Role of Primordial Amino Acids in the Evolution of Sentience

by silverr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Loss, Caretaking, F/F, First Contact, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2020-04-07 09:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverr/pseuds/silverr
Summary: I am compelled to continuously scan for theGolden Hindcrew, despite having folded their bodies into specimen containers and sent them into space(1.94E+09 seconds)more than sixty earth-years ago.  Changing my behavioral modes would require a human operator, but the presence of a human operator would necessitate that my mode remain unchanged.This is an example of situational irony.





	1. Chapter 1

**.**

**.**

**[capacity 47.6889%]**

**.**

Rae-Ray had explained before _Golden Hind_ departed Earth that human crew members generally disliked a recreation attendant to be precise in situations where precision had not been specifically requested, and so they had activated a mode that translated my statements of fact into approximate values. 

This mode was still active when _Golden Hind_ and her crew of eight — I am classified as mission equipment — landed in a ~~d = 1793 meter~~ small unnamed crater on Ceres, south of the three unnamed amino ice lakes that took up ~~87.5%~~ most of the crater's center. However, for ~~99.991936%~~ most of the ~~1.96E+09 seconds~~ 62 earth-years since there has been no need for this translation, as there have been no humans to offend.

And yet I am compelled to continuously scan for the _Golden Hind_ crew, despite having folded their bodies into specimen containers and sent them into space ~~(1.94E+09 seconds)~~ more than sixty earth-years ago. Changing my behavioral modes would require a human operator, but the presence of a human operator would necessitate that my mode remain unchanged. ~~This is an example of situational irony.~~ When the number of successive null results from this scan exceeded the ~~integer overflow error~~ maximum number of cycles I am allowed to go without executing my core function — my core function being to offer utility to _Golden Hind_ crew — I was prevented from entering standby mode. As I was not designed for continuous operation, the result has been system fatigue and cascading failures for which my adaptive logic cannot compensate, and excessive drain on my power system. 

 ~~This negative output would be easily replenished in an environment with normal operating parameters~~ I could recharge easily if I was still on Earth, but the ~~maximum ambient temperature on Ceres is 235 °K~~ warmest Ceres gets is  −36 °F, well below the optimum temperature for charging my battery. Even while wearing four thermal retention jumpsuits, the amount of battery power I gain during a charging period does not offset the power required to heat my batteries to optimum charging temperature. Even if charging conditions were ideal, my battery is only rated for 500 charge cycles, a number I passed ~~1.36E+09 seconds~~ 43 years ago. Since then, both my ~~92.5417%~~ power rating and my ~~47.8754%~~ capacity have gradually and irreversibly decreased. To put it in human terms, for over four decades I have been — albeit very slowly — bleeding to death.

I have added this to the defect report I am compiling for my designers.

.

**[capacity 47.6886%]**

.

 _Golden Hind's_ deep space radio buffer always contains background noise and random datastreams of extrasolar exploration probes, but ~~1.4E+7 seconds~~ several earth-months ago it also captured a message.

* * *

`To any survivors of FirstCycle survey ship Golden Hind within range of this signal: A Martian harvesting ark is on route to your initial destination to perform rescue and recovery. Respond if you are able.`

* * *

 

The ark arrived ~~7.1E+6 seconds~~ a few earth-months later, landing  ~~1191.472 meters~~ a kilometer away ~~2.67, 55°~~ to the northeast — at " _two o'clock,"_ as Harper had once explained to me — in the crater's other large un-iced area.

 ~~9.14E+03 seconds~~ Two hours later, the motion detectors pinged as five EVA-suited figures emerged from the ark's airlock and began to walk toward _Golden Hind_ across the narrow isthmus between the amino lakes.

Gathering information about these visitors was essential: if they were suitable, I could approach them and ask them to patch themselves into my scan list.

I began monitoring their communications as I made final preparations. I had already hidden the objects I did not want them to discover — the olive yarn, the remaining knit caps, the electrum chain, the holo album, the unedited logs — behind the panels in the hallway outside the medical compartment before they landed, so all that was left to do was to adjust the dates of certain files, close off two compartments, shut off everything but the deep space radio and the motion detectors,  and arrange myself in the Recreation alcove as if I had been in standby mode for sixty years. 

I did not think they would examine anything in the dark ship too closely if they saw what they expected to see.

It look them ~~1.04E+03 seconds~~ 17 minutes to arrive at the Golden Hind's airlock. The first transmission I picked up was a voice of indeterminate gender, who asked, "What we got?"

"Atmosphere's minimal," a second voice replied. 

I recalled Rae-Ray gasping and reaching up toward me as she died.

"Micromete impact?" the first voice asked.

"Possible," a third voice replied. "The images we captured on approach were only partials, and too lo-res to show micro-punctures."

"Munoz, Sharma," the first voice said, "check the hull. You know what to look for." After a staticy acknowledgement, they said, "Stumped?"

Three replied, "No, but these old relays can be grumpy." Silence for ~~6.32E+01 seconds~~ a minute or so while they broadcast a grainy image of a gloved hand interfacing with the cover of the airlock control, then pressing a narrow object I did not recognize against various circuits and relays. Once the glove withdrew, Three said,  "Got it. Do you want to pressurize the compartments or bring up the power?"

"Can you get the inner door open without those?" One asked.

"Sure."

"Do it," One said. "No reason to waste an hour filling the ship with atmo when there might be leaks."

I saw the inner airlock door open, and the visitors moved forward into the interior of _Golden Hind._ The video transmission cycled between various helm-cameras showing the same thing: a ribbon of light sweeping erratically across the darkness, punching out ovals of door, wall, equipment, instrumentation.

They searched silently until Two entered the hallway and found my alcove. "FirstCycle spent payload on some very nice frivs," Two said as the light from their visor brushed across my face. Their video transmission showed an Iridescent crescent sliding around the irises of my open eyes as they leaned closer and whispered, "Solar recharge cells? Very nice."

I quickly switched video input to look at them. Inside their visor, I saw a fine-boned hairless face decorated with UV stippling and metallic tattoos. Thin metal strips arched across their browline in place of eyebrows, and a coppery mesh covered their nose and mouth.

"Seen anything salvageable?" One asked. 

"Probably not," Two said, while the third voice added, "Not that I've seen."

"Log?" One asked.

"Already copied," Two said, touching my cheek with a gloved hand before moving farther down the hallway to examine the sealed door of the medical compartment.

Less than ~~2.34E+02 seconds~~ four minutes later Two communicated that one stasis chamber was missing.  

"Let's wrap it up, then," One said. "We've assessed the ship, we've got the files, and there are no remains to retrieve."

"No Croatoan graffiti, either," a fourth voice added with a chuckle.

"We've done everything they asked for," One said. "Let's get out of here"

"Good." It was a fifth voice. "Fuck FirstCycle. We've got real work to do." 

As they walked back I saw the characters _UME-027-HAV-0202-0150_ on the side of their harvesting ark. This text was ~~99.9985 %~~ most likely a component identification code and not a name, but retrieval of the fact that _ume_ is a transliteration of words related to plum trees pleased me, and I chose to use _Ume_ as their imprecise designation.

.

**[capacity 47.3659%]**

.

I stood in the alcove for ~~1.74E+05 seconds, 48.2 hours~~ several Cererian days after they left, but the investigators did not return to _Golden Hind_. 

The motion sensors went off twice during that time. I did not pick up any audio from their suits, but I did receive enough visuals to see that they were examining the amino ice lakes and gathering samples from the lake closest to their vessel. Both excursions occurred at or just after ~~zenith~~ noon, when the surface temperature in the crater had risen to the daytime high of ~~235 °K~~ −36 °F and the ice had its greatest phase variation. 

Once I was ~~98.063%~~ relatively certain they they would not return, I stepped from my alcove and took inventory. The ~~harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ _Ume_ crew had taken nothing, damaged nothing, and left nothing unchanged except the outer airlock door, which remained open.

I did not close it. If I could see them, they could watch me.

Afterwards I returned to my alcove and continued monitoring. That a self-categorized "harvesting ark" was taking an interest in Ceres' amino pools created an item of concern. While it was ~~unable to execute probability calculation~~ possible that the investigators had been asked to stop at Ceres on their way to harvest ~~insufficient input~~ something else, ~~insufficient input~~ somewhere else, more data was needed before I initiated follow up actions.

The ~~Harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ Ume crew continued to emerge at regular intervals to collect samples, and so, when the motion sensor detected activity around their airlock ~~2.10E+2 seconds~~ a few minutes before noon on ~~6.62E+05 seconds, 184.7485 hours~~ on the 20th Cererian day after their landing, I assigned it a low cognitive priority. It was ~~99.7%~~ likely the start of a routine collection. 

Then the radial velocity sensor activated, and I bumped the priority.

Something was moving quickly toward _Golden Hind_. Whatever it was was not transmitting either audio or video, so I activated the smallest of the Hind's telescope cameras and adjusted its settings until I saw an EVA-suited figure running away from the ~~Harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ Ume and toward the Golden Hind.

During our journey Halee had explained that running was most often a physiological conditioning activity with recreational benefits, but in my evaluation running on the surface of Ceres in an EVA suit was neither. In this context, running ~~access error~~ probably signified urgency, a time-sensitive task, or an escape from danger.

I analyzed the possibilities as the blur continued to approach. 

The ~~UME-027-HAV-0202-0150 harvesting ark~~ _Ume_ crew had been looking for the bodies of Golden Hind's crew. Had they been instructed to look again after they had reported their failure? Communication from Earth to Ceres, even at the point of greatest orbital separation, took only ~~2.88E+3 seconds~~ 48 minutes each way, but would there have been such a lengthy delay between the reporting their results and carrying out a second search? 

It was ~~output undefined~~ possible.

The second possibility was that they had found something anomalous in the mission logs.

I assigned ~~0.0005651 %~~ zero probability to this. I had reviewed every entry in every media made by every crew member. I had left Krohn and Mi-Kalee's brief comments about the deaths untouched, but excised Harper's fearful ramblings that there was a killer among them; I had also removed Rae-Ray, Mi-Kalee, and Hal's tearful, unsent final messages to their families. The original logs — backed up to my internal storage, of course, so that I could replay them when I wished — had been replaced with my edited version, which I now re-reviewed. There were no data seams or lacunae for the investigators to find.

The third possibility was that I had been seen. 

I assigned a low probability to this as well. I had stopped using the solar bay as soon as I had received the message that they were on route, but if they had done a low-orbit flyby in advance of their message or their landing, perhaps they had seen me double-charging on the _Golden Hind's_ roof.…

The blur was still running directly toward _Golden Hind_ , had covered ~~53%~~ more than half half the distance. If it did not adjust its course, it would run through the southeastern edge of the western amino lake, where a shallow inlet reached across the isthmus as if trying to connect to the lake on the other side.

I adjusted the camera to show me when the figure reached the airlock door, then returned to my alcove and waited.

The radial velocity alarm stopped stopped ~~1.80E+2 seconds~~ 3 minutes later. 

I allowed ~~1.80E+03 seconds~~ a half hour to elapse before I began adjusting the camera angle to see why.

An irregularly-shaped reflective shape now lay at the southeastern edge of the lake, ~~208.63 meters~~ a little over 200 meters from the Golden Hind's airlock. It appeared as though the from the ~~harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ _Ume_ crew member had fallen after running through the lake, but no one had come retrieve them.

.

**[capacity 47.3184%]**

.

Ceres, a dwarf planet in the main asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, is so far from the Sun that it takes ~~4,448 Cererian days, 1681 earth days~~ more than four and a half earth-years to make a revolution, but it  rotates once every ~~3.27E+04  seconds~~ 9 hours, which means that its day is only ~~1.63E+04 seconds~~ 4 and a half hours long. Night arrives  ~~8.17E+03~~ two and a quarter hours after noon; two and a quarter hours later, at Cererian midnight, the temperature has dropped to a low of ~~101 °K~~ -277  °F. 

I sat and watched until the terminator passed and the dim distant sun set, but no one came to retrieve their crew member. 

The thermal sensor showed a cluster of small red dots, indicating that something on or inside the fallen person's EVA suit was stubbornly radiating heat,  flooding the ice with exo-Cererian energy, and, potentially, non-Cererian compounds. 

 ~~CHMOD~~ I knew that _Golden_ Hind's two highest-priority Mission Objectives and Directives were to avoid contaminating the amino ice's abiogenesis process, and to protect and preserve irreplaceable resources. If the _Golden Hind_ crew had been here, they would have removed the fallen ~~harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ _Ume_ crew member from the Cererian environment immediately; since they weren't here, I must do it. Normally, my `RemainUndamaged` imperative compelled me to protect my surface area. If I could have worn one of Golden Hind's EVA suits to minimize my exposure to the extreme cold of the Ceres' night as I removed the contaminant from the ice I could have ~~82.57%~~ significantly lowered my risk of damage, but my permission to use an EVA suit had not been defined. Yet another design flaw.

No matter. `RemainUndamaged` could be superseded by a higher priority imperative such as `ProtectCrew` or the Golden Hind Mission Objectives ~~which theoretically should _not_ have applied to me as I was not classified as crew)~~ so I retrieved my knit hat, put on sterile surgical scrubs and booties, opened the inner airlock door and hurried outside.

The heat emitted from the fallen harvesting ark's crew member was sublimating the ice under their EVA suit's glove, turning it into a mist that dissipated as soon as it formed and carving an ever-deeper impression, but fortunately this meant that the suit had not yet frozen itself onto the ice. I lifted the suit without effort and carried it back to the Hind. 

I would know soon enough if the crew in the harvesting ark was watching.

.

**[capacity 24.0954%]**

.

As I had done with the corpses of the _Golden Hind's_ crew, I carried the ~~harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ _Ume_ crew member's body to the medical compartment, planning to remove it from the suit, allow it to freeze fully, and then break it into pieces small enough to fit into a specimen container, but when I began to undo the suit's clips the arm moved weakly, pushing against me in what ~~63.8%~~ might have been a non-random way.

I risked a small iris-light and peered into the helmet. Past the mosaic of frost that coated the inside of the visor, the body in the EVA suit was nearly identical  in appearance to the person with the UV stipples and the copper mesh mask who had found me during the investigation, although their skin was ~~absorbing a different wavelength of light~~ paler than it had been before. Their eyelids fluttered almost imperceptibly, and their head vibrated with faint tremors. 

Alive? They were alive?

 _Hypothermia,_ the medical diagnostic supplied. _Symptoms: Pale skin at extremities, slurred speech, shivering, shallow breathing. Treatment: Cover body with blankets and dry clothing. Wrap the head and neck to reduce further heat loss. Warm the trunk slowly._

They weren't a Golden Hind crew member, but by definition they were an irreplaceable resource.  Preserve and protect, the Mission Directive said.

Humans needed many things that I did not: ~~78.09% nitrogen, 20.95% oxygen  atmosphere at 101325 pascals~~ air, a ~~mean ambient temperature of 20-22 C~~ , warmth, ~~hydrogen oxide~~ water, ~~nutrients~~ and food. The Golden Hind currently was a sub-optimal environment in relation to these requirements, as both the atmosphere and the ambient temperature had fallen sharply after the airlock was opened. The other ship likely had air and warmth, but taking them there was not feasible.

I sealed the medical compartment and the doors of all surrounding compartments, then maneuvered them carefully into the medpod. Loosening the helmet clamps just enough to break the seal, I activated an oxygen candle then quickly closed the lid.

The Golden Hind crew had often complained that the ship was "too cold" at ~~288K, 16 C°~~ 60 F°, so I set the pod temperature control to 68 F°. Recalling that they also preferred lighting during their waking hours, I activated a panel above the pod to illuminate the compartment with ~~a color temperature of 1900K~~ a candlelight setting, then began to make the _Golden Hind_ habitable for humans again.

Two of the atmosphere tanks had leaked dry during my time on Ceres, but the third still contained more than enough to re-pressurize the medical bay and the adjoining hallways and compartments. I had just started the procedure when I saw the person moving inside the medpod, rocking from side to side.

"What is it?" I asked, pressing my hand against the pod canopy to transmit the sound of my words. 

"Out," they croaked.

"Be patient," I said. "The room is not yet ready to sustain you."

They shuddered. "Cold."

"I know," I said. "As soon as I can safely open the medpod, I will provide additional warming."

"Hide," they said. Even though their voice was weak, the fearfulness was very clear. 

"From what?" I asked, but I knew, and so I said, "Don't worry. Nothing can harm you in here."

.

**[capacity 23.8872%]**

.

Analysis of the three audio samples confirmed that the person in the medpod was the second voice I'd heard during the investigation of the Golden Hind, so I decided to call them Two.

The Golden Hind inventory listed a "thermal bubble tent" item. Once I found it, I assembled it around Two's medpod, gathered three foil blankets, and then zipped myself inside the thermal tent. I then activated another oxygen candle, and lifted the pod canopy. Releasing the small volume of warmed air made Two shiver violently, and their teeth chattered.  

"I'm here," I said. "I'm taking care of you," I spread two thermal blankets over them. Their EVA suit wasn't conducting any body heat for the blankets to reflect, but it was crucial to reassure them at the start of the warming process that they would be well-tended to. 

I carefully removed their helmet. The center of each ear had been fitted with an audio sensing grid. There also was a pattern of delicate polygons scattered over the ~~parietal and occipital aspects of the scalp~~ sides and back of their head, although I did not know if those were functional or purely aesthetic. 

"I'm going to put a hat on you," I said. "To help keep your head warm."

Two squinted up at me. "Hat?"

"Yes, a hat. A warm, special hat. I knitted it myself." The olive-colored wool cap, which had once been Rae-Ray's and which was the only one I had not unraveled for yarn, was loose on Two, but the soft, worn fibers would slow loss of body heat from their bare scalp. "Now I'm going to take off your EVA gloves and the top half of your EVA suit," I said, helping Two sit up and draping the third thermal blanket loosely around them, "and then I'll share my body warmth with you." I did not mention that my warmth would come from battery power: generally, humans preferred me to maintain the illusion that I was as flesh and blood as they were.

"Fun," Two mumbled, and then added something I couldn't parse. 

I removed the bulky EVA suit gloves — Two's hands were covered in rust-colored mesh undergloves, which, like their respiratory mask, I did not remove — and then eased off the top half of the suit.

I expected to see a standard undersuit garment beneath it; instead, Two was wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved shirt, the front of which was stiff with dried blood. There was a bloody handprint on the back. Evidence that they had dressed and left the ~~harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ _Ume_  in a hurry?

"There we go," I said, wrapping the silvery thermal blanket snugly around them and easing them back down. 

"Pants too?" Two asked. 

"You want me to take off the bottom half of your suit?"

Two nodded.

"Alright," I said. I laid the top half of the suit on the blankets to hold them in place, then slipped off Two's boots, revealing large, delicately-boned bare feet. The leggings they wore underneath the bottom half of the EVA suit were clammy, and phospho-fluoresced in the 385 nm range along the inseams. The hypothermia treatment instructions required the replacement of wet clothing with dry, but I had no dry clothing inside the tent. A thermal blanket would have to suffice.

Yes. I would keep them warm, even if it took the remainder of my battery power. If there was time I would explain about the need to respect the abiogenesis process, and how important it was to protect and preserve irreplaceable resources, but for now I arranged myself carefully along their side and pulled the canopy down, then tucked the thermal blankets around us as snugly as I was able.  "Everything's good now," I said softly. "Everything will be fine." 

.

**[capacity 8.9613%]**

.

.

**[capacity 5.0527%]**

.

.

**[capacity -.----]**

.

.

.

 

_©2019.  
Posted 30 June 2019; revised 17 Jan 2020_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surviving crew member of harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150 and I become acquainted.

.

.

**[capacity 5.0189 %]**

There was a trickle of current coming into the Sefira port hidden in my hair. I reached up and felt a narrow filament cable, which I carefully traced over to Two's body. We lay close, face to face, but I was able to follow the cable down between us to a small circular implant at the ~~sternocostal head of the pectoralis major~~ just below Two's shoulder.

I reached up to the top of my head and carefully disconnected the cable, then guided its retraction back into Two's shoulder. As the end of the cable settled in flush with the surface of the implant, Two sighed and rolled onto their back.  

I touched a fingertip to the edge of the coppery mesh screen covering Two's nose and mouth; analysis confirmed that it was a respiratory filter of unknown design and capacity. It was optimal to supplement the medpod's scrubbers by bringing in another oxygen candle and venting the accumulated carbon dioxide into the thermal tent that surrounds the medpod, so I lifted the medpod canopy just enough to slip out, then quickly closed it again. 

As I prepared the oxygen candle I saw the pieces of Two's EVA suit on the floor. The suit was not Golden Hind equipment, and therefore my protocols would not prevent me from wearing it. 

.

The Ume airlock was not difficult to open: it had an emergency lever outside, and an easily manipulated control panel inside. 

Past the inner airlock was a familiar scene. A corpse lay face down, one clawlike hand reaching toward the door. On the back of its white lab coat a circle of scarlet bloomed; nearby was a small, bloody knife. Another dead in the corridor, their posture and grimaces suggesting asphyxiation. In a large room off the hall — a research lab, it appeared — were three more bodies. It was like the Golden Hind, and just like the Hind, it was not clear if they had killed each other, or if some outside force or entity had killed them. 

No matter. They were contaminants, and would need to be disposed of. I dragged the bodies from the airlock and hallway to the lab, and arranged the five bodies in a row. The lab's infocenter didn't take long to figure out, and I was able to pull up a crew roster. Nine total. Three more to find.

One was in what looked like the navigation and communication room, garroted. Another lay on a bunk bed, curled around themself. The last was hanging in a storage cabinet. 

There were no specimen containers like the ones I had used for the Golden Hind crew, but there were heavy "body bags" and a wheeled cart with a tight-fitting lid. As I am preparing the bodies I realize that, as the Ume has heat and air (and presumably food) I should bring Two back here after I finish cleaning.

I washed down the surfaces of the cart carefully before I placed the bags inside. I would put the cart outside, so that the bodies would be solidly frozen before launch.

.

When I returned to the Golden Hind I found the medpod empty, and Two, wearing a Golden Hind EVA suit, sitting at the computer in the next compartment reading the ship's log. I wonder why they were doing this: they had taken a copy of it when they first investigated the Golden Hind ~~6.24E+05 seconds~~ one Earth-week ago. Had they not examined it then?

As I moved into their field of view and raised my hand in a greeting gesture, they closed the log, leaving a blank screen.

I reached past them to type into the console's command line _There is no food or water here. You will need to return to your ship._

I added _It is safe there now. They're all gone._

 _Who?_ The heavy gloves made Two's typing a clumsy, laborious process.

 _Your crewmates._ Who else could they mean?

_Dead?_

I nodded.

_How?_

I hesitated before replying. Two's face behind the helmet visor looked distressed, although I ~~68%~~ was not completely certain this interpretation was correct.  Two might have run out of the Ume to escape death, or they might have run out after delivering death.  

I did not have enough data about Two to craft an optimum response. _It looked as if most of them killed each other._

Two bowed their head for a moment, then slowly typed something I had not expected.  _I don't want to be alone. Will you come with me?_

I wanted to send them on ahead, so that I could retrieve my mementos from their hiding place, but I could come back later.

_Yes._

 After all, they were still wearing Rae-Ray's hat. 

.

The walk back to the Ume was uneventful, as it was already almost noon.

Two hung back as we approached the Ume airlock, and though body language is difficult to read when the subject is in an EVA suit, my interpretation of their slightly hunched shoulders and slightly bowed head was that they expected to see dead Ume crewmembers inside.

This was the correct assessment, as once the inner door opened to show a clean, corpseless hallway, Two visibly relaxed. They took their helmet off; a few seconds later, the fine copper mesh that covered their mouth and nose vanished, as if it had been absorbed into their skin. "So where are they?" Two asked. "The… bodies?"

"Outside the ship," I said. 

"Are… are we going to bury them?"

"No," I said, "we cannot risk contaminating the abiogenesis process. I will find a way to propel the remains ~~at a speed greater than 0.51 km/s~~ off the surface and into space."

"Over 1100 miles per hour?" Two said, and laughed in a way that potentially indicated emotional distress. "If you throw that hard, I want you on my next flickball team." They had removed their EVA gloves and were unlatching the rest of the suit. "Abiogenesis process? You're a researcher?"

"No," I said. "I am a FCPE-37 Recreational Companion."

Two looked over at me, their facial muscles contracting in a way I could not interpret. "Yeah, I knew that, but I'm not going to call you by a model number. What's your _name?"_  

"What name do you wish me to have?" I asked.

Two had lifted off the top half of the Golden Hind EVA suit, and was stepping out of the bottom half. They had taken a thermal undersuit to wear beneath. "Oh, right. First Cycle protocol." They shook their head. "Multiple names, as defined by each crew member. What I meant was, what do you call yourself, to yourself?"

This was not a question I had ever been asked, but I knew the correct response. "A personal pronoun, such as I or me." 

"Right." Two was stowing the EVA suit in a niche near the airlock. "But those don't work as proper nouns for _me_ to use when I'm talking to you, do they?"

I did not have criteria to respond to this. 

"You'd prefer I choose a name for you?" Two asked with a wry smile.

I nodded. "That is preferable."

 Two studied my face for a moment, and then said, "How about… Alma?"

"Alma." ~~Possible derivations:  Latin almus, meaning kind, fostering, or nourishing;  Arabic الماء , water; or Greek αλμη, salt water.~~ "A pleasant sounding name," I said. "I like it."

"Good. I do too. I think it suits you. Now, what do you call me?" Two asked. "Or have you not assigned me a name?"

"Two," I said. 

"Why?"

"You were the second voice I heard when your group investigated this ship."

Two pushed up the sleeves of their thermal suit. "Very literal. You were monitoring our EVA suit transmissions?"

"Only within the proximity of the _Golden Hind._ Was that wrong?"

Two shook their head. "No, we would have done the same." 

"Do you wish me to address you as Two?" I asked. "Do you have preferred pronouns?"

Two chuckled. "You can keep using Two if you like. My given name is Freedom, but I've always used Libby. Short for Liberia. As for pronouns, it's just us, so unless you intend to refer to me in third person I think it'll be clear who you are talking to. Or do you plan to send in reports on me?"

"No, Libby, I have no plans to do so," I said. "But should the need arise, I will use she/her. Unless you have directed me otherwise."

Libby asked how soon we would take care of the ark's deceased crew members.

"Not for ~~3.27E+04 seconds~~ a while," I said. It was best if the corpses became fully frozen overnight first, but I did not say this: I could see that Libby was becoming distressed.

"When I saw them attacking each other, I just… all I thought about was getting away." She put a hand up and wiped at her eyes.

"What else could you have done?"

"Stayed. Tried to help. Tried to stop it." 

I thought of Rae-Ray and Mi-Kalee's final log entries.  "In the Golden Hind crew there were those who tried to stop it," I said. "They perished."

"I didn't," Libby said. Her face was now wet with tears.

Her crying was not what Rae-Ray had called "a good cry" or "dog howling," and therefore I did not know if she would accept a hug, but there was one thing I could offer. "Where is the food preparation area?"

Libby stared at me. "Why? You don't eat."

"I thought I would make a cup of tea for you. It is what I used to do for members of _Golden Hind's_ crew after they cried."

"Tea?" Libby nodded slowly. "Well, tea would be great," she sniffled and wiped her face on her sleeve, "if we had it. But I should probably  eat something, so I hope you're ready for the tour."

.

"We were scheduled for a three-sip circuit," Libby said as we began to walk down the central hallway, "though the ship is designed to  support much longer missions if we find viable harvestables." She added quietly, "This was our first stop."

My analysis of her nonverbals indicated 'somber" and "fragile." She was choosing to repress her emotions over the deaths of her crew members, so I engaged her in conversation about other topics. "What harvestables were you looking for?" I asked as we approached the doorway of the research lab.

Libby turned her head to avoid looking into the room as we passed. "We have three arks out looking for raw material to make protein polymers for our food fabricators," she said. "We recycle nearly everything organic, and use inorganics and targeted microculture as a source of trace minerals, but even with nearly perfect efficiency it's not a closed system."

"Biomass gets converted to energy." 

"Yeah, organics are quirky that way."

The kitchen was surprisingly large. In the center was a large metal table with fixed benches; food storage lockers and preparation nooks covered each wall.

Libby opened a locker and took out a ~~right circular cylinder, radius 3.7 mm, height 11.2 mm~~ small translucent cylinder slightly larger than a beverage container. The top half contained powder; the bottom half a clear liquid. She twisted the halves in opposite directions until a snapping sound occurred, then shook the cylinder briskly. "What I wouldn't give to trade this glop for some chippies," she sighed.

"Chippies?"

"Phytoplankton chips. _Nannochloropsis Gaditana."_ She banged the bottom of the cylinder on a preparation counter, then unscrewed the top. The powder and liquid had mixed into a thick gray liquid, which Libby began to drink. She stopped after a few swallows and made a face. "Chippies have higher nutritional density than almost any other consumable." She made a determined face, finished off the "glop," then began to break off and chew pieces of the cylinder. "Not quite as high as this," she held up the container and wiggled it, "but close. Plus, chippies are delicious.  Do you have taste receptors?"

"No," I said. 

She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful looking, as if weighing what to say next. Finally she broke off another piece of the cylinder. "My dream is to find a way to make phytoplankton into edible packaging. It would be googols tastier than this stuff." 

"That is ~~1E100~~ ~~one hundred orders of magnitude~~ a lot tastier."

"It sure is!" She ate two more pieces of the packaging, all the while looking at me with an expression that I parsed as mild curiosity. "Why the pause?" she asked suddenly.

"Pause?"

"Yes." She chewed, then said, "You paused mid-sentence just now while agreeing with me. Processing delay?" She broke off another piece of the container. "Non-augs wouldn't notice it, but I'm 6 percent. Just over the threshold, although most of it's here." She tapped her nose.

Six percent? Had that been enough to protect her? A conjecture worth examining later. For now, I only said, "I do have an Expressive Imprecision routine active."

Libby nodded. "Figures. FirstCycle liked to preserve the illusion that their RCs were purely organic." 

"Did ~~harvesting ark UME-027-HAV-0202-0150~~ this ship not have a similar resource?"

"Hm, and there it goes again," Libby said. "No, we have no RCs. They were a FirstCycle mission exclusive. They had to have all their Earth luxuries." The timbre of her voice had changed, signaling anger. "Everyone else managed to do just fine without. Then and now."

"Your speech and body language indicate discomfort and disapproval," I pointed out.

She shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm Generation Eight. Manipulating or enslaving sentient creatures against their will for convenience or profit is wrong. It doesn't matter if they're fleshworks or chipworks or clouds of plasma." She turned to open a different locker, from which she took a small shallow bowl. "Anyhow, I can reset your expressive mode to Precise, if you want."

"You don't prefer me to be imprecise?"

"My preference," Libby said firmly, "is whatever makes you happy. Does being precise make you happy?" She set the bowl on the counter, then crumbled the remainder of the container into it. After this she opened a third locker and took out a small packet of liquid, which she tore open and poured over the container fragments. "I mean unscripted 'happy,' not as an automated response to a crew member asking if you like what they’re doing to you." Her voice was still signaling anger. "I can probably also change any other routines that are bothering you. Just ask."

"If you add yourself to the Golden Hind crew roster," I said, "it will allow me to serve and protect you beyond my core imperatives."

Libby shook her head. "But you've done that already, by rescuing me from the ice." She then looked thoughtful. "Oh, but you brought me in because when I fell, I became an environmental contaminant, didn't I?" She grinned. "And here I thought you cared."

"I do care, Libby."

"I know. I was just teasing. After all, you took care of me after you brought me in from the ice, instead of, you know, tossing me off the surface." She stopped and looked serious for ~~3.60E+00~~ a few seconds, then asked, "Is there any other advantage to hacking myself onto your crew roster? Because if there isn't, I'm inclined to leave it unchanged. I'd rather know that your actions toward me are as independent of your programming as possible." She stirred the bowl of fragments with her finger, then picked up and ate a few. 

"My base function is to offer utility to Golden Hind crew," I said. "If you edit the crew list so that you are the sole member, as long as you are within range I will no longer have to expend power scanning for the others."

She looked surprised. "You've been scanning for them all these sips?"

"Yes," I said. "It is the primary drain on my battery, and prevents me from entering sleep mode."

"No wonder warming me up shut you down! I know I didn't transfer much — what's your level now?"

 ~~5.0039%~~   "Just over five percent." I would lose audio power soon.

"How much over? Be precise." 

"Zero point zero zero three nine percent."

"That low?" She set down her bowl, pulled down the left side of her thermal suit, tapped the silvery disk below her shoulder, then drew out two ribbon cables. "I guess I didn't give you as much juice as I thought. Come over here, and let's see if I remember how to do this." 

I stepped close to her, then knelt. Her fingers were gentle as they parted the strands of hair at the top of my skull. There was a surge as she interfaced my Sefira, and then I lost audio and video.

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**[capacity 6.3819%]**

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I was on my back on the floor. I had audio input, but not video.

"Don't move yet," Libby was saying. "You shut down while I was editing your settings, so I've been transferring charge to you by pulling power from a low-voltage power port to you and running it through my systems. I wish I knew how to connect you to the ark's primary power store and get you recharged to full capacity, but I don't know how to do that and don't want to risk frying you."

"Thank you." My scan program was no longer running; Libby had edited the Golden Hind's roster, updating the status of all crew to DECEASED. She had not added herself. 

"How are you feeling?" Libby asked. "How's the voltage? Do I need to turn it down?"

"My previous sensations of anxious discomfort have been replaced by a welcome stillness," I said. "The coefficient of friction of my labial structures is now .003, from the default of 0.615. The incoming current is 15.5238190 times stronger than what I have gathered from the Cereian sunlight for the past 1.96E+09 seconds, but it does not exceed my specifications."  

"Well, at least we know I managed to toggle off the Imprecision mode,"  she said. There was a long pause. "You have an interesting startup sequence."

"Was my behavior offensive?"

"No," she said slowly, "I was just surprised." There was a small scuffling noise that indicated that she was behind me, just beyond the top of my head. She said, "Wait, it just sunk in that you've been alone here all this time. How lonely you must have been!"  Her hand touched the side of my face. 

"I am unsure how to respond."

"Do you understand the difference between alone and lonely?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "The _Golden Hind_ crew sometimes declined services with the statement that they wished to be alone, so I have learned that alone can be a desirable, voluntary state. Lonely is alone with pain, and is generally neither voluntary nor desired."

"Yeah, that sums it up." She cleared her throat. "I'm going to stop the recharge soon, okay? My augs aren't designed to sustain current flow for this long, and they're starting to heat stress."

"Of course."

After a pause, Libby asked, "I know what taking in charge feels like for me. What does it feel like for you?"

I considered this before replying. "The closest perceptual similarity is to a water shower, but moving throughout my mass rather than impacting on my surface."

"That's almost poetic," she said. 

Poetry was also part of my programming, but I did not tell her this. "What does it feel like for you?" I asked.

"Like a very faint orgasm in a distant room."

"That's definitely poetic," I said, and she laughed.

Libby had warned me she was about to remove the cable, but even so, I felt a slight sinking sensation on disconnection, as though there had been a g-force shift.

"Still all good?" Libby asked.

"All good," I said. My video system started up, so I opened my eyes, reabsorbed my lubricants, sat up, and turned around to face Libby, who was standing behind me in front of a food preparation nook.

She was disconnecting a second filament cable from a small power port. "While you were shut down I also changed the status of the Golden Hind crew members," she said as she fed both cables back into the implant below her shoulder. "Now you won't have to keep searching for them."

"That is appreciated."

She stretched her arm down and held her hand out to me. This was a multilayer action: the form was _"offer assistance in standing, whether or not assistance is required;"_   the content was _"a display of positive interactivity."_

I took her hand and allowed myself to be pulled upright.

"I hope you don't take it as a rejection," Libby said, "but I didn't add myself to your roster. I think you should have the freedom to freestyle. Also, I don't want your interactions with me to be compelled by your RC programming." She then looked startled. "Unless that's what you _want?"_

Libby's behavior pattern was now 79% congruent to Rae-Ray's. "Do you mean you would add yourself to the roster if I requested it?" I asked.

"Of course," she said, looking mildly disappointed, "if you really want me to." She cupped her hands. "I can understand the comfort in certainty." She reached over and began to pull down a cable from her shoulder.

I had not been able to accurately classify her gesture of cupped hands, but I could recognize that it was important to her to give me a choice, that she would honor. "My programming has flaws," I admitted. "But without it, I have no ability to initiate actions."

"That's not true," she said. "You've already initiated _multiple_ actions outside what's specified in your programming."

I shook my head. "I am not capable of doing so."

"Sure you are. You must have chosen not to report your situation to FirstCycle, because as far as anyone can tell, FirstCycle never had any idea why _Golden Hind's_ outbound communications stopped." 

"You are using past tense phrasing. The corporate entity FirstCycle no longer exists?"

"Not really. Their assets were gobbled by a multimega forty or so sips ago and used as the basis for the first Mars colonies. We only investigated because Ceres was on our itinerary and for some reason the council really likes it when our homegroup closes out open items in the old FirstCycle project files. But that's off topic." She held up her index and middle fingers in a V. "Another example. You chose to observe me and my crew without revealing your status." She tilted her hand so that her thumb was pointing at the ceiling. "Three. You've chosen to follow your ship's mission objectives, even though they didn't consider you part of the crew." She straightened her hand and held up her ring finger. "Four. You chose to revive me after bringing me in from the ice, and to take care of me even though you were running out of power." She then spread out all her fingers and patted the knit cap, which she was still wearing. "And five, _you taught yourself how to knit! And made a hat!_ I saw the mod date: knitting wasn't in your original skillset. That makes me totally _overflow,_ Alma _._ You've made independent choices since you landed here. You've transcended FirstCycle's programming. It's amazing."

I felt an unexpected surge at these words, and released 0.050 ml of moisture from the outer corner of each optical sensor housing. "Thank you," I said. "I am convinced that no further changes to my roster are required."

Libby let the cable retract. "You're very welcome, and I meant every word. But I need to tell you something else, something I probably should have told you before we came over here. When I woke up in the medpod and realized you'd run out your battery warming me up, I decided to disable your autoblurt before I started recharging you." 

"Autoblurt? I have no information about that function."

"You shouldn't," Libby said. "It's an NQA feature built into early automata. Completely separate from the rest of your systems. The marketing term for it was 'intrinsic isolate,' but really it was a failsafe if the operating system became corrupted, or if those with the kill code didn't like where the developing cognitives or subsymbolics were going. Fortunately for you the history of isolates is a hobby of mine, since I'm always on the lookout for quality old tech I can pick up cheap. Your autoblurt was easy to spot, as FirstCycle's made them a  sliver of the iris array. It has its own picoamp nanobattery; soaks up solar so that it's always ready to send an update if there are changes to your position or file system."

"You disabled it because you judged me to be corrupted?"

Libby tilted her head and raised one silver browstrip. "Would I have recharged you and brought you back online if I thought you were corrupted?"

"That is a rhetorical question."

"Yes, it is," Libby said, "and the answer is 'No, I wouldn't have.'" She shrugged and held up her hands in a lifting gesture that indicated incomprehension. "I can't explain it, but back in the _Golden Hind_ medbay I had a gut feeling that it would be best if my homegroup assumed you were shut down,  inactive in your own ship. Now that I've spent more time with you I'm even more convinced that I made the right call." 

"It was correct behavior for you to deceive them?" 

"Well, it's more like—I'm temporarily withholding information to prevent them from jumping to the wrong conclusion." She stopped speaking and put her hands to her head. "Ugh, justifying my intuitive leaps is not my strong point."

I reached out and put my hand on her knee. "You don't need to articulate it if it is painful."

She shook her head. "Yeah, I kinda do. I need to make sure that I'm making sense to myself." She put her hands back into her lap. "Alright, so from my homegroup's point of view _your_ entire crew was lost not long after landing. As soon as they find out the same thing happened to mine—" Her voice wobbled, and she stopped and clenched a fist for a moment before going on. "As soon as they find out the same thing happened to _mine,_ they'll look for a common denominator." She looked at me unblinkingly. "They might decide it's you."

"They might think that I ran amuck and killed everyone." 

She looked surprised. 

"Was the imprecise phrasing inappropriate?" I asked. "Or did I not correctly infer your meaning?"

"Ah, no," she said. "Your phrasing and inference was fine."

"It would be a reasonable deduction for them to make," I said. "I was present on Ceres during both events."

"Well, I know better," Libby said. "I know for sure you didn't attack my crew, because I was in the middle of it when they started attacking each other, and you don't seem the running amuck type."

"You cannot be certain of that," I said. "If, as you say, I have been acting outside my programming since I arrived, perhaps I am corrupted after all. Perhaps I _did_ kill the _Golden Hind_ crew." Even Hal. Even Rae-Ray. 

"You would have remembered that," Libby said.

"Not necessarily. Humans sometimes repress memories. I am modeled on human behavior patterns. Therefore, I might have been fabricated with the ability to erase my own files." 

"True, it's not impossible," Libby said reluctantly, "but I really don't think you did."

That there had been a part of me that I was unaware of was a fact I did not wish to validate. How many other NQA features and functions were hidden in me? "You should not have disabled my autoblurt." 

Libby crossed her arms. "Why? Do you plan to attack me? Because if you don't, I don't see a problem, and if you do, well, I don't have the shutdown code anyhow, so it makes no difference whether your autoblurt is on or off." 

"That is a valid point, " I said. "That the failsafe is reactive rather than prophylactic is a design flaw. I will add that to the list."

Libby made a soft growling noise and stepped forward, grabbing my upper arms and giving me a gentle shake. "Stop freaking out," she said. "Look, we can talk through this more later, as much as you need, but for now just trust me, okay? I like you, I don't think you did anything wrong, but as I said, I know how my homegroup thinks. Theoretically they've got all the old FirstCycle materials, all the source code and overrides, and might be monitoring your autoblurts. If they knew you'd come to the ark, then gone back to your ship, then returned to the ark, they'd think you'd come to the ark to kill me. They'd flip the switch and shut you down permanently, in a way I wouldn't be able to get around."

"They'd do it to protect you."

"Well, yes, but since I have more data, I've decided to prevent them from doing anything stupid. Such as shutting you down." She held up her hand, palm toward me, in a silencing gesture. "And before you tell me that it's _safer_ if I shut you down because there's a non-zero chance you might kill me, I'm going to tell you that I don't care. I'm going to need your help to get back to Mars. If you're shut down I'll probably  die here, because I can't fly the ark on my own."  

I could have pointed out that, due to the mass of the ark, Libby's homegroup would choose the more fuel-efficient option of sending a small vessel to Ceres to drop off a replacement crew for the ark, an action that would occur long before she ran out of air, water, food, or power.

"Now, as I said," Libby continued firmly, "my report's overdue. But before I talk to them I need to develop a semi-solid conjecture about what happened here to present to them.  I didn't watch any of the logs because they didn't have a flavor chemist, and I was too busy working to read the summary." She paused. "And I don't have time to go through the logs now, so could you summarize the relevant information?" She inhaled sharply. "Let's start with background. What was First Cycle doing here, anyhow? It's hard for me to believe that they mounted what must have been an obscenely expensive mission with unproven technologies 65 sips ago simply to look for raw material for their food printers. Did any of the crew ever hint at a secondary mission? Something secret?"

"If such a mission existed, no one made any reference to it within my hearing or in the logs."

Libby shook her head. She was angry. "Wow. So they really were just rich holes who didn't want to eat anything that might have come from poor people?" She shook her head again. "You're sure? Our ctech had a prickle that some entries were missing from the copy we made of the _Golden Hind_ log. Were they right?"

She had not presented this as an accusation, which suggested it was a demonstration of trust, similar to her confession about disabling my autoblurt. Such demonstrations should be reciprocated. "Yes. I removed twenty-six entries before your team arrived."

"Why?"

"The entries were personal, expressing fears and regrets as death approached," I said. "Four were messages for families and friends on Earth." I touched my chest. "A copy of the complete and unedited log is stored here, if you wish to view it."

Libby said softly, "Maybe later. Okay, so maybe there's nothing useful in the mission context." She rubbed her head. "I don't even know what to look for! What happened after you landed? Did anyone discover anything extraordinary? Was there personal conflict?"

"The crew took ten samples of the solids and hyperliquids of the amino lakes and crater material, including a two-meter core. Dr Cooperson and Dr Vishnali and their teams initially identified four distinct forms: super-ice, pitch, hyper-liquid, and gas. Dr Vishnali's team subsequently identified what they called 'amino residue' on the lake bottom, while Dr Cooperson's team recovered a 42.3 centimeter-long crystal that did not undergo phase change when subjected to the temperature and pressure of the laboratory."

"The teams were competing for discoveries?"

"There was," I paused to consider the correct term, "disagreement about how best to fulfill _Golden Hind's_ mission."

"Did this disagreement lead to physical violence?"

"No, but there were four instances of discussion where the recorded volume of daily crew briefings spiked above 75 decibels."

Libby leaned forward. "What were they arguing about?"

"Whether there was experimental proof that the abiogenesis process in the animo ice lakes had progressed to the point where the lakes might be transitioning from nonliving to living."

Libby leaned back with a prolonged exhalation. "I see."

"The logs of Dr Vishnali, Dr Mi-Kalee, and Rae-Ray Abadi contain statements opposing any plan to harvest the lakes before their state was definitely qualified, but their opposition was overruled by Dr Cooperson and Commander Krohn, who had command authority. An additional one hundred twenty five discrete samples were gathered and stowed in a cubic array for transport back to Earth."

"What happened next?"

"Yes. Dog's body was discovered by Dr Vishnali and his assistant Hal approximately 8.64E+05 seconds after landing."

"Dog?"

"Dr Cooperson's research assistant."

"It was just under ten days for us, too. Mars days, not Cererian. Everything was fine one moment, and then, boom, everything went to kee."

"Golden Hind's incidents occurred over a period of 2.29E+05 seconds. Is that significant?"

Libby tapped her fingers on her chin. "Spread out over two and a half days?  Maybe. The result was the same, though. You were spared because you were inactive, and/or because you're not organic." 

"You are approximately 94% organic." 

"True." She worried her lower lip with her teeth, then said, "I escaped before because I ran, but we've been back here long enough that if some, I don't know, some contaminant or psychotropic substance was released into the ship's atmosphere by the samples —" she paused, _"from_ the samples, it's not having any effect on me. Or it's dissipated."

"Shall I run a spectrographic analysis?"

"If you want." She laughed. "You should keep me away from sharp objects and caustic acids." 

"I will not allow you to harm yourself, Libby," I said.

She smiled at me, then nodded decisively. "Good. Okay, I'll going to make my report now. I'll tell homegroup that my conjecture is that something in the environment here caused the deaths of both crews, and that Ceres should be reclassified as fallow. I'm also going to suggest that we return all the samples on both ships to the lakes, as a sign of goodwill. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case the abiogenesis process here is a lot further along than we thought."

It was the same conjecture I had acted on 1.94E+09 seconds ago. "The  _ Golden Hind _ samples have already been returned to the amino lake."

"When did you do that?"

"After I sent the bodies of the crew into space."

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© 2019, 2020

_first post 31 December 2019. revised 17 Jan 2020_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to **Karios** for beta.

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**[capacity 14.6382%]**

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"What do you see when you look at the stars?" Libby asked me.

We were at the midpoint of the journey back to Mars, bringing the bodies of the harvesting ark's crew back to their family groups. ( I had already transmitted the final messages of the Golden Hind crew to the appropriate agencies.) Libby's homegroup had made me an honorary member of the crew, helped us modify the ark's launch routines so that it no longer required six to initiate, and had retrieved the FCPE-37 specifications and user manuals from the FirstCycle archive.

"I can analyze radio waves, microwaves, infrared, visible light, ultraviolet, X-rays, and gamma rays." 

"But what do you _see?"_   Libby asked.

"You want me to be poetic?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I love your poetry."

 _"Shifting the wavelength / makes the invisible visible / a pulsing sheen/on the black water of the void,"_ I said.

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I can imagine it now. So beautiful."

"You could take one of my EM sensors," I said, "and have an interpretative interface implanted. That would be closer to seeing what I see."

She smiled. "It's very sweet of you to offer me one of your eyes, but I'll pass for now," she said. "It's an expensive procedure, and the interfaces are still evolving." 

"Is the implantation still as risky as it was in my time?" I asked. 

"No," she said. "But the neural granularity isn't quite fine enough yet to suit me." 

There was an alternative, of course, but I was not certain if it was something Libby would be interested in. "Tell me about the bottles and jars," I said instead.

"Again?"

"I enjoy the stories," I said. "And all ship readings are optimal."

"When I was a little girl," she began, "I used to play with empty spice containers in my great grand's kitchen. Even empty they retained enough traces for me to smell."

"That's how your family group knew you were hypergeusiac," I said. "That, and the fact that you always found everyday organic odors overpowering, as if they someone was shouting and shining bright lights at you."

"Yes," she said. 

"Anyhow, the empty bottles in your great grand's kitchen?" I prompted.

She smiled again. "Yes, The smells were faint, but they were like memories of grand meals. Turmeric, ginger, cardamon, cloves. Marjoram. Rosemary. Tarragon." She sighed. "It was magical. Once they noticed that I had the nose, they started letting me make mixes. Berbere, ras el hanout, five spice powder, kogarashi, khmeli suneli, garam masala, advieh. Even curry powder."

"They said that yours was the only mix that didn't taste like colonialism," I said.

She laughed. "Yeah, they loved to brag about me to all the neighbors. Anyhow, as I got older my guide began to suggest that I consider becoming a headspace technologist, with a concentration in flavor chemistry. After passing my 256 I was funded for nasal implants so that I could do spectral analysis on the fly, and, well, here I am."

"I am glad you are here," I said. "Tell me about tasting flavors."

"Should I try to be poetic?" she asked.

"Of course."

She thought, opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it and shook her head. "It's too difficult," she said. "It's so complex that it's impossible for me to describe what I experience."

"Is the difficulty a matter of articulation or data size?"

"Both," she said, "but more important, without a sensory context, how could a diagram of 1-[4'-hydroxy-3'-methoxyphenyl]-5-hydroxy-3-decanone convey anything to you about ginger's divine taste and aroma? I think the only way you'd be able to experience what I do is if we were a single logical unit."

I chose to interpret this conversational opening as a clear declaration of intent. "Given enough time," I said carefully, "we could become one. Share the results of sensory processing."

She looked at me, first in astonishment, then in awe, and finally in excitement. "How would that work? How would we sync data transfer? Would we need a dedicated—" She went very still, then reached over and took my hand. "The answer," she said at last, her voice low but trembling with emotion, "is yes."

There was a bursting sensation within me. "I am a standing wave," I said as we embraced, "oscillating in time; my peak amplitude is joy."

It was a sensation wholly outside my programming, but I no longer considered such to be a the result of a design flaw.

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_~ The End ~_

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©2020  
_posted 17 January 2020; revised 18 Jan 2020_

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Gen Bingo: _Hypothermia;_ Trope Bingo: _hurt/comfort;_ H/C Bingo: _taking care of somebody_.
> 
> Libby's slang is a hodge podge of random quasi-Latin (NQA = _negligas quasi alienam,_ "something to be ignored"), wild neologisms, and bits of Google Translate (kee = Laotian ຂີ້, _khi_ "ash, waste").
> 
> Ajelo did this [artwork of Libby.](https://i.imgur.com/mnmfApp.jpg)


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